


prone

by asynchrony



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: "this is less porn and more a character study with dicks out" - a friend, M/M, Massage, Multi, Sex Work, Trans Moniwa Kaname, i just think sakusa would do yoga, mentions of a few of our hq girls, more hooker aus written by actual hookers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 05:28:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28808103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asynchrony/pseuds/asynchrony
Summary: Businessman Sakusa walks into a discreet massage parlour and gets more than he knows how to ask for.
Relationships: Kita Shinsuke/Moniwa Kaname/Sakusa Kiyoomi, Kita Shinsuke/Sakusa Kiyoomi, Moniwa Kaname/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19
Collections: Kita Ship Week 2021, stories that touched me





	prone

**Author's Note:**

> warnings: i use the word "cunt" in relation to a trans man's body; sex work power dynamics are complicated as usual.

Kaname's not really expecting much business today, but the internet at work is super fast, so here he is. He's halfway through the second sock he's knitting for poor Koganegawa, who wears through the rare store-bought socks that fit his giant feet in about two weeks flat; there's a bunch of new shows on Netflix, and he's just figured out how to get his browser to auto-scroll AO3 so he doesn't have to take his hands off his double-pointed needles. If it's quiet, he should be able to finish the pair and drop them off on his way home.

Between the before-work rush and lunch, the place is usually quiet save for one or two pensioners (who, predictably, always go for Yui's girl-next-door charm). Today's a little different.

"I haven't seen this guy before!" Saeko says, leaning forward to squint at the TV broadcasting the security camera at the door. Her bangles jangle as she props her chin up with one hand. As always, Mai spends a few minutes at the door with the customer so anyone who recognizes him from their civilian life can leave the workroom before the introductions start; Kaname takes the time to study him. He's shrugging off a sports jacket, the dress shirt underneath tailored precisely to shockingly broad shoulders. Mai gestures to his mask apologetically, and he takes that off as well.

"He's handsome," Shinsuke murmurs. "Probably not here for me or Kaname, though, so I'm going to go make another cup of tea." He disappears through into the kitchen. Kaname shuts his laptop to be polite, but Kita's probably right. He watches Saeko adjust her breasts in her studded Playboy-brand bustier and laughs.

"I'm glad I'm rid of those."

Saeko shoots him a sharp grin. "Me too! Can't have too much competition for the best rack here. Let's find out if our new guy is a breast man, huh?"

Mai knocks on the door thrice, then pops her head in. Satisfied, she lets the tall man in.

"All right, so this is our roster this morning. There's a couple more girls coming in around lunch, but we pride ourselves on always having a pretty diverse selection. Say hi!"

Saeko takes the opportunity to start, of course. "Hey, big boy," she croons, sitting in a feigned-casual position that gives the doorway the best view of her assets. "I'm Saeko. I can do pretty much anything, but I especially like to put on a show." She turns to her left and gestures at the worker picking a large padlock. "And this lovely lady's Kiyoko." 

Kiyoko looks up and offers a polite smile. "Pleasure. I'm the CBT and fetish expert, if you're after that." She searches his face for a moment then turns back to her work, assured that she's not his type.

Moving clockwise around the room, the man settles dark eyes on Kaname where he's settled at the back.

 _Interesting._ Most straight men tend to avoid looking at him altogether, he finds.

"I'm Kaname," he says, letting his voice rasp naturally. Stretches languidly, in a way that allows his button-down to fall open and expose his chest scars. "I'm a little special."

"I can see that," the man says. He's been quiet so far, and the way he's scanning Kaname's body seems born of genuine interest rather than gawking.

Shinsuke, of course, takes this moment to emerge from the kitchen.

"You can call me Shinsuke," he says, padding out in bare feet. Perches himself on the arm of Kaname's chair, angled so that the client can't help but catch a glimpse of the jockstrap he's wearing under his translucent robe. He props a coy elbow against Kaname's shoulder. "We're very good friends."

Kaname has no idea how Shinsuke reads people as quickly as he does, but he's usually right. He tilts his head to rest his face on Shinsuke's arm, looking up through his lashes, and is gratified to see the man flush.

"I'm assuming that means you do doubles," he says, dry but a little strained.

"They sure do," Mai smiles. "Our two boys, then?"

He falters for a moment, then seems to firm up his resolve. "Yes, please."

* * *

Kiyoomi — though of course Shinsuke has no idea if that's a real name — proves to be even more interesting than expected. He asks, polite if firm, to see the room before he goes any further; requests that the massage table be sanitized while he's in the room, though he offers to do it himself if it's extra work.

Shinsuke puts the disinfectant back in its concealed cubby as Kiyoomi double-checks the vinyl on the table. "I told Hana that putting our hygiene practices on our website would work out, you know."

Kaname snorts. "It certainly helps prospective workers, but I reckon most of our guests don't care as much as they should."

"That _is_ why I chose this place," Kiyoomi says, straightening up. He flicks a wry glance at Kaname. "Men are pigs, present company excepted."

"I've had enough bad housemates to understand the sentiment," Shinsuke laughs. "Well! Did you want us to shower as well, either with you or separately?"

Kiyoomi shakes his head. "I assume you've both washed in the last few hours. Thank you for offering, though."

Kiyoomi showers quickly (and Shinsuke can only assume, efficiently); hangs his shirt and trousers on the neglected hangers in the corner, then hesitates at the table.

"I haven't actually done this before," he confesses, letting Kaname back him into sitting on the table's edge. "Tell me what to do."

That turns Kaname's smile a little sharp. "That I can do," he murmurs, leaning in so it's barely a whisper into Kiyoomi's ear.

Kiyoomi shudders. His hands hover around Kaname, uncertain; Shinsuke takes mercy on him and clambers onto the table behind him so his knees are bracketing pale, mole-dusted hips. "You're allowed to touch, if you like. Above the belt, of course."

Kiyoomi responds to that like a drowning man. Leans back into Shinsuke's chest, head canted up to expose a long, slender neck; his hands finally find tentative purchase on Kaname's hips. "God," he exhales.

Kaname smiles against his neck, but it's marked by concern. He pulls away a little to meet Shinsuke's eyes (yeah, Shinsuke nods, we're moving too fast), then drop to Kiyoomi's. "I've been a little cruel to you. This isn't how we usually start a massage, as you might imagine."

Kiyoomi huffs a shaky laugh. Shinsuke strokes his flanks slowly and firmly, steadying a spooked horse; Kaname puts a handsbreadth between them apologetically. "You said this was your first time doing this — doubles, or this kind of massage more generally? You seemed plenty professional during intros, so I figured you were pretty seasoned."

"Not at all," Kiyoomi manages. He sits up a little; shuts his eyes, looking ten years less put together. "It's my first time doing... anything, really. I did a lot of Googling."

"Well," Shinsuke says, hopping off the table, "we're very honoured." He comes around so he can see Kiyoomi's face, Kaname moving to one side. "Do you want us to walk you through how this normally goes, or did you have something in mind we can improvise around? We'll make sure it's a good time, either way."

Kiyoomi folds his hands into his lap, a little incongruous given he's wearing nothing but the towel he brought. "I'm a very private person, as you might have guessed," he says. "I thought it might be best to start with a professional. Or two, though that wasn't my plan."

Standing, he's a lot taller than either of them. "I'll leave myself to your capable hands, quite literally. Should I...?" He gestures to the towel.

"Spread that on the table, then get on your stomach. Head on this side," Kaname says. "We'll leave the room while you get settled, and knock to make sure you're ready before coming back in. Then, we'll work on your back and any proper massaging you'd like for a bit, before asking you to turn over. Does that sound all right?"

Kiyoomi nods.

"Take your time," Shinsuke murmurs, touching him briefly just above the knee, then ducks out.

"Wow," Kaname opens, once the door is shut behind them.

Shinsuke busies himself with the water-bath. "Yeah." He's always been one to retreat to routine when a little off-kilter.

"I really did think he was a punter. Though those don't really exist for our niche, I guess."

"Our niche being cis-dude-trans-dude gay sensual massage doubles? I don't think anyone even advertises those." Hell, in years of working together, they've only ever done it once.

Shinsuke dries off the oil bottle he's retrieved, transferring it to a dry warmer; Kaname adds the washcloths he's just moistened. They look at each other for a moment, mutual understanding.

"Any specific plans?" Kaname asks.

Shinsuke shrugs. He'd make a joke, but something about the situation cuts too close to the bone: two early-twenties men, who've been aged by this work since their teens; one businessman, trading his composure for boyish trust in their jaded hands. "Let's see how we go."

* * *

Kiyoomi sits there for a moment, after the door shuts. Takes a couple of deep breaths, feeling each rib move outward in turn, then stands when he's feeling a little more steady.

The three walls without doors are lined with huge mirrors, the only light source a standing lamp flickering orange in the corner. Kiyoomi looks around for the light switch.

Much better. He looks at himself for a moment, reflected at infinite angles in the right angles of the mirror-maze, stark under the bright ceiling lights; takes another full, conscious breath, then peels off the towel and sets it out.

By the time there's a knock on the door, Kiyoomi's loose-limbed on the table, chin propped on his forearms. It's not all that different from his yoga mat, really, except all the ways it's different. He shifts his gaze from studying his own half-lidded face to the reflection of the door as the masseuses step in.

"Hey, you." Kaname sets down some basket-device on the stand in the corner, shucks his oversized shirt, and steps closer. "Feeling all right?"

Kiyoomi hums. "I hope you don't mind the lights."

"Not at all," Shinsuke says, coming to the other side of the table. "I like it better this way, but apparently it's not as sexy."

"I think it's sexier to be able to see." Kiyoomi props his head up on one hand, twisting back. He surveys them reverently: Shinsuke, hairless and lithe, slender to the point of being coltish, then Kaname, newly hirsute, soft through the belly and thighs. Something tugs at him deep in his gut, the beginnings of pleasure-shame, and he holds one loosely and lets the other go. "You're both beautiful."

Kaname flushes an almost violent pink. He picks up the bottle of oil, and Kiyoomi takes it as his cue to lie back down.

He shuts his eyes for a moment, narrowing his world from the dizzying fractals of three half-bare bodies to this: the flick of a cap. The whisper of hands and liquid somewhere above him. The inevitable, thrilling first touch, almost but not quite in sync. Two hands pressing upward, base of each palm gliding from hip to shoulder blade on either side of his spine, compressing his exhale out of him.

Each circuit grows firmer, seasoned hands mapping his body with increasing familiarity. Kaname catches the knot in his left shoulder on the third downstroke.

"Ah- there," Kiyoomi breathes, letting his eyes drift open and unfocused. Shinsuke, on his right, has found its mismatched twin at the base of his neck, kneading it with slow upward strokes. Kaname rises to his tiptoes and puts his weight into the knot, working it a little with both thumbs.

"Breathe into it," Kaname murmurs. Kiyoomi obeys, filling his lungs and feeling his shoulder blades rise like wings into waiting hands. As he empties his breath, Kaname presses down more, sinking so deeply into that dull, metallic pain-pressure that he could almost believe the knot's been cored out of him.

They wield touch like surgical implements, the both of them: Shinsuke works out his traps with smooth, heavy forearm strokes that are more sensual than they have any right to be; Kaname scores parallel lines down his spine with his thumbs, pressing them outward at the slightest sign of tightness. The slow push-pull of tension and release sends his senses humming, minute after excruciating minute. Their fingertips draw out the demands of his body: stay here with me, exist in me, let the cerebral diffuse away we are one, one, one. He is, at the end of the day, flesh and bone and blood, rising back to the surface in the wake of the courses they chart on his skin.

"Please," Kiyoomi says. He has never asked for anything in his life, not so simply.

The tide turns. Kaname smiles at him through the mirror, a flash of canines more thrilling than reassuring. He starts up a rhythm of upward strokes, thigh calf other-calf other-thigh, hands following continually in each other's repeated path like never-ending thunder. Gentler, perhaps: a lover's hands, detangling long hair, unpicking his nerves one by one.

Shinsuke swings one knee up onto the bed, arching down over it to sweep his chest across Kiyoomi's back like a heat wave, blinding him and forcing out a gasp. "Easy," Shinsuke murmurs. Slows his movements, undulating slick and sinuous, one hand an anchor at Kiyoomi's side.

Kaname gives his feet a final knead, pressing each tendon and joint into pliant submission, then steps whisper-soft back up the table. Whispers "Look at us," and tilts Kiyoomi's chin just a little so his gaze is drawn back to the mirror in front; pulls Shinsuke in from the other side to nip at his neck.

Bent over the table as they both are, the contrast is intoxicating. Kaname is on tiptoe again, the scrap of lace straining at his hips giving way to downy, dark curls and the scarlet which ribbons across the swell of his impossibly round ass; Shinsuke is one long, lean line with his throat bared, lashes fluttering silver as the age-faint scar that runs down his oiled sternum. They're of a height, but the difference in build and coloration makes them look like the earth ravishing the willing sky.

Kaname licks a final, filthy stripe up Shinsuke's jaw, then pulls away. Smiles flushed and dark-eyed at Kiyoomi. "Ready to turn over?"

"Yes," Kiyoomi manages, mouth dry.

There's something infinitely, terrifyingly vulnerable about this: lying face-up, entirely bare and more than a little hard, on a table hardly large enough to accommodate him.

Shinsuke brushes a few sweat-damp strands off Kiyoomi's forehead, crinkling at the eyes. "Usually I'd climb right up and show off my body rolls, but there's more room for improv in a double. What would you like?"

"I want," Kiyoomi says before he can restrain himself. "Can I see you? Both of you."

They exchange an unreadable glance. Perhaps it's not the done thing, at least not this soon; perhaps it's not something either of them does at all. "All right," Kaname says before he can apologise. "Sit up, then."

Kaname hooks his thumbs into his panties, wiggling them down over his hips; leans back against the wall, hips canted forward, and presses his fingers down in an inverted V around his cunt to part it. His dick is distinctly that, Kiyoomi realises, watching it fill deliciously thick and red under the gentle pressure, hood already retracted.

Shinsuke peels his jockstrap off slowly and palms himself. He mimics Kaname, one hand pressed to his mons around his mostly-soft cock. The skin between his legs is perfectly silken where Kaname is delightfully, densely unshorn.

"You really do like looking," Shinsuke murmurs. Kiyoomi feels his cheeks blossom under his watchful golden gaze; nods, holding on to the undiluted anticipation thrumming in his gut.

"It's nice to meet real people," he says, inadequate and too transparent all the same. Unfurls his fingers from the edge of the table, one by one; parts his legs willingly for Shinsuke when he steps between them.

With him seated like this, they're nearly eye to eye. Close enough for Kiyoomi to see the faintest freckles dusting Shinsuke's cheekbones. He reaches for Shinsuke's hair, waits; gets permission in the slightest nod, then runs his hands through thick hair, coarse in the darker underlayer and a little brittle where it's white. Shinsuke turns his face into Kiyoomi's palm, mouthing lazily at it. The flicker of his eyelashes against the pads of his fingers, the barely-there rasp of a catlike tongue, a suspended, mischievous moment.

"God," he whispers. Turns to Kaname, who looks a little like he's also under his friend's spell. "Come here."

Shinsuke steps back, Kaname taking his place. He's a little bolder, hands coming right up to cup Kiyoomi's face instead of trailing along his thighs; presses himself to him, forehead and nose, sharing breath. He doesn't startle away from Kiyoomi's hands when he brings them tentatively to his waist. "Let us take care of you," he whispers. "When you're ready."

"Okay," Kiyoomi says, drowning.

Lets himself be nudged back to lying; lets Kaname climb up to straddle his thigh, the heat of his cunt searing through his skin. Lets Shinsuke join him, knees bracketing his hips, mouthing at his neck. They rock together, a truly unholy beast, until Kiyoomi feels like he might combust without his cock having once been touched. Desire sings through him, tight and desperate.

"Please, please, please." He barely recognizes himself, peeled out of propriety and split into translucent segments of feverish hunger. The seconds spiral out, individual eternities in which Kiyoomi is set aflame.

Eventually, Shinsuke shifts. Sits Kiyoomi up a little, kneeling behind him to brace him. Kaname slides up to straddle his hips. Hemmed in as he is, he can hardly thrash as Kaname takes him in hand, fist pressed to his own pelvis, jerking him off slow and steady like he's handling himself.

Shinsuke skims his nails down Kiyoomi's chest like a brand, and the dam breaks. He's not quite there yet, riding the crest of a sensate wave that has yet to hit the shore, but he's thoroughly overwhelmed: head lolling back against Shinsuke's shoulder, white hair a halo in his periphery, glimpses of Kaname thick and steady like a tree emerging fully-fledged from the seed of _want_ they've planted in him. Kaname grinds down, oil-slick and all-consuming, presses in behind his balls with devastating precision and thumbs his frenulum, and he's gone, gone, gone.

* * *

Kaname strokes Kiyoomi right through the aftershocks, until he's slumped and panting in Shinsuke's lap. Slips away to the warmer for a second.

"Here," he murmurs, passing Shinsuke one of the washcloths for Kiyoomi's upper body, and using the other to clean the rest of him up in broad, gentle strokes.

Kiyoomi lies still and trusting in Shinsuke's arms for a lot longer than most johns do, if they let themselves be held at all. He keeps his eyes shut, breathing long and slow like a sedate sea; turns his face a little into the warm, damp cloth with each pass.

Eventually, those long, dark lashes flutter. Kiyoomi focuses on Kaname first, cleaning oil off his legs and feet.

"Hey, you," Kaname says again.

Kiyoomi works his jaw a little, sits up. "Good morning," he says. His voice is still warm with hazy post-coital affection, but Kaname can almost see the machine he becomes during office hours booting back up.

"It sure is still morning," Shinsuke laughs. Slides off the table, stretches languid and unabashed. Kiyoomi tracks the movement almost involuntarily, flickering between the two of them at each step like he's unsure if they're real. Eventually, he pulls himself together, gathering his towel up and wrapping it around himself before getting up.

"I guess I should..." Kiyoomi hesitates halfway to the door. Gestures vaguely. "Will I see you, after I shower?"

"Yes," Kaname says, gentle as the first snow, "to say goodbye."

* * *

It's quick work to sanitize themselves and the room. Shinsuke runs the washcloths to the hamper while Kaname rinses off his junk, and they're both back before Kiyoomi returns.

He's fully dressed, pristine enough that only the dampness of his hair hints at the activities of the last hour. Shinsuke sits on the table, swinging his legs as he watches Kiyoomi lace up his shoes. (Kaname, being Kaname, hovers.)

"What are your plans for the rest of the day?"

Kiyoomi looks up, wary. "I took a half-day from work," he says. Smiles, a rueful twist of his mouth that's nearly as honest as everything they've wrung out of him. "Frankly, I'm not sure how I'll get through the rest."

"You've done it before," Kaname says lightly, handing him his tie.

"I have." Kiyoomi opens his mouth, as if to say something else; shuts it again, making that all-too-familiar face of realization that company secrets or personal secrets aren't fit for rentboy-stranger ears.

He pulls his jacket on and picks up his briefcase, every bit the consummate professional. Falters, searching Shinsuke's face, then turning to Kaname.

"I'll take my leave, then?"

Shinsuke slips off the table. "Come here, silly." Telegraphs the hug clearly as he steps toward Kiyoomi; meeting no resistance, he rises onto tiptoes, drapes his arms around the taller man's neck, and kisses his cheek.

"Don't be a stranger," he says, stepping back so Kaname can embrace Kiyoomi. "Unless you want to."

Kaname smiles, that sweet, shy smile of his that they both know is devastating. "Look after yourself, either way. We had fun," he says, and pulls away to open the door.

**Author's Note:**

> this is way out of my comfort zone, let me know what you think here or [on curiouscat!](https://curiouscat.qa/emdashing) this fic [can be retweeted here.](https://twitter.com/emdashing/status/1350947357609885700)
> 
> full disclosure: i was trained in a sensual massage parlour in (decriminalized) new zealand, didn't work there long at all before going back to full service, and have no exp working elsewhere in the world.


End file.
